The Detective's Daughter
by celebi82
Summary: On a typical boring day on Baker Street,there's a knock at the door and its...Sherlock's daughter! Can Sherlock handle a daughter? And can John stand another Sherlock in the flat? AU (no slash) Enjoy! (may possibly have the genre of hurt/comfort for possible ideas in future chapters)
1. Simply Impossible

**A/N: **Hello fellow Sherlockians! How are you this fine day? Or night. Or whatever. Anyhow, this is my first Sherlock fanfic, so please be kind or at least point out any mistakes for me, like OOCness or maybe just grammar or spelling mistakes. Otherwise, please enjoy! ^-^

**Chapter 1: Simply Impossible**

It was just a typical day at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock lied sprawled across the couch, complaining constantly of boredom and occasionally shooting the wall, to which John would yell at him. John was just sitting in the armchair across from Sherlock sipping tea and reading a book, nodding every once and a while when he thought Sherlock was talking to him. Then all of a sudden, the doorbell to their flat rang.

Sherlock jumped with excitement saying, "Maybe that's a client!" and dashed out the door and down the stairs as John wondered who it was.

Sherlock happily opened the door to see a teenage girl holding two bags, a carry on and a suitcase. A bit confused by her baggage, Sherlock merely raised his eyebrows for a moment. This gave the girl the opportunity to speak.

"Hello, you must be Sherlock Holmes. Well, according to several documents and tests, apparently, I'm your daughter and I'll be staying from now on," she informed Sherlock quite bluntly. She smiled charmingly up at him for a moment before putting on a curious expression and walking right past Sherlock to the stairs.

Sherlock stood in shock for only a moment before muttering, "That's impossible" and following the teenage girl who was already halfway up the stairs.

"You can't be," Sherlock scoffed as he caught up with her at the top the stairs. "What's your name? " he asked after looked at her bags and seeing no name tags on them to identify her with.

"Amelia Grace," she answered. "Although, since you are my father, I'd like to have your name instead. Has a much better ring to it, don't you think? Amelia Holmes," she mused and walked into the flat, looking around with curious eyes.

"What's your mother's name?" Sherlock asked as John looked up from his book in confusion at the conversation.

"Samantha Grace. You don't remember her? Strange, you don't seem like the kind of man to knock up a girl and leave," she said stoically. She then shrugged and continued to look around as Sherlock stared at her disbelievingly, for once in his life shocked into silence.

Amelia looked towards John and said," You must be John Watson."

John looked towards her, still confused by the entire situation and said, "Um, yes, how did you know?"

"Your name's on that bag over there," she answered, as if it was obvious, reminding John very much of a certain detective. Which reminded him…

"Sherlock, you have a daughter?" John asked disbelievingly. Sherlock was still staring at Amelia with his furrowed eyebrows. After a moment, he turned to John.

"I don't…think so," Sherlock answered as John raised his eyebrows. Sherlock was sifting wildly through the files in his mind palace, trying to think of when he could have possibly conceived a child.

"How old are you?" Sherlock asked Amelia. She turned around from going through his bookshelf.

"Fourteen," she answered in a bored voice and took out one of Sherlock's encyclopedias that she seemed to recognize.

"Fourteen, fourteen years, fourteen years ago, no, fifteen," Sherlock mumbled to himself, concentrating on remembering what he had been doing that long ago. He hit both sides of his head several times and made a frustrated noise as he strode about the flat mumbling to himself. Amelia watched him with an amused expression.

"You must not be as smart as my mother says. Don't you think there's a bit of an uncanny resemblance between you and I?" she said with a smirk as she lied herself across the couch and looked up at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked back at her and started to study her properly since she first arrived. She was quite pale and had long, ebony locks of hair that went down to her lower back. She was quite tall for her age and had slender, skinny form. She was wearing some type of uniform, a school uniform, Sherlock concluded, suggesting that she either went or used to go to a boarding school or a private school, most likely boarding school since she probably had to stay there until some type of social service could get her to him. The only feature on the girl that didn't resemble himself were her eyes, which were practically clear. He nodded a bit irritably, agreeing with her silently that they did look very much alike.

"Why are you here? What about your mother?" Sherlock asked after finding no evidence by looking at her to answer these questions.

"She died a few weeks ago," Amelia answered, no emotion betraying her face. Sherlock merely nodded and continued to think about how she could possibly be his daughter as John just stared on with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"John," Sherlock said as he stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the room. John started slightly and responded with, "Yeah?"

"Is there any chance you could get a blood test for Amelia and I from that place you work at?" Sherlock inquired. John nodded.

"Uh, yeah, sure, I could call them right now, but Sherlock-," John started as he reached into his pocket for his phone but stopped when he realized it wasn't there.

"I haven't got my phone," John said as he checked his other pockets. "I'm sure I put it in my pants pocket..."

"I've got it," Amelia said. Sherlock and John turned their heads to her to find her clicking away on John's phone. "Mine was dead, so I pick pocketed you. I needed to use a phone. Don't feel bad that you didn't notice. I'm good at it. I would've taken my dear father's here, but I thought he might notice more than you, Dr. Watson," she said blankly as she finished typing up whatever it was she was doing and tossed John's phone to him. He caught it reflexively. He stared incredulously at the girl who had only just appeared in his and Sherlock's flat not more than 20 minutes ago.

Sherlock couldn't help but grin slightly at his supposed daughter's skill at pick pocketing, since he did that oftentimes. He sighed exasperatedly at John's still shocked expression at clapped his hands right in front of his face. John started and looked irritably up at Sherlock.

"Phone. Blood test. Call," Sherlock commanded and went over to the microwave in the kitchen and turned it on, watching the jar of eyeballs inside. John shook his head at Sherlock but dialed the clinic's number anyway.

Amelia got off the couch and curiously went over to Sherlock.

"What have you got in there?"

"Eyeballs," Sherlock responded.

"Human?" Amelia asked interestedly.

"Yes."

"Brilliant. Think they'll explode?"

"Possibly."

"Fantastic," she said and watched the rotating jar of eyeballs with fascination equal to Sherlock's.

John had just finished up talking on the phone and was about to tell Sherlock when he noticed both him and Amelia staring at the microwave with excitement. He raised his eyebrows slightly but also found himself smiling a small smile at how alike the two really were.

Sherlock pressed the cancel button on the microwave. Amelia looked up at him, confused.

"What'd you turn it off for? They looked like they were just about to explode," she said disappointedly.

"Don't want them to explode just yet. I'm not done with them. Want them still completely intact for a little while long," Sherlock answered, walking back to the living room. Amelia crossed her arms and followed him.

"Fine, but make sure I'm there when you do make them explode," she said grumpily.

"Fine," Sherlock answered, barely listening to her.

John was sitting in his armchair, listening to the two's conversation with amusement written all over his face.

"If you two are done arguing, the clinic I work at told me that they can have you in for a blood test today in about an hour. We'll have to leave soon. It's about 20 minutes away," John informed them both.

"Fine. Call a cab or something," Sherlock said and pulled out his phone, texting someone.

"How long until we have to leave? Forty minutes? I need to charge my phone or else I'll have to steal yours again," Amelia stated bluntly while staring at the ceiling.

"Yes, I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for your mobile to charge if you plug it in now. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't steal my phone again, thank you," John said but Amelia just waved her hand at him dismissively. John sighed. He wasn't sure if he could handle another Sherlock.

Amelia pulled her mobile out of her pocket and pulled out its charger from pocket on her carry-on bag. She plugged it into the nearest outlet and nodded satisfactorily when the phone beeped signaling that it was charging. She looked around the room, observing again just as she had been doing earlier.

"Why have you got bullet holes in your wall?" she questioned curiously.

"Sometimes I shoot it when I get bored," Sherlock answered with a bored voice. "I would shoot it now but John's hidden my gun," Sherlock said with a glare pointed at said man. John merely shrugged and said, "It's not nice to shoot Mrs. Hudson's walls, Sherlock."

"Mum never let me do stuff like that. She was always so boring," Amelia said and trailed off in thought for a moment. "You won't make me continue going to this dreadful school, will you?" she said, gesturing to her school uniform. "The right answer is no because I won't go anyway. I can't spend another boring millisecond there."

"No, probably not," Sherlock muttered, not paying much attention to her but off in his own mind palace, still trying to think about how he had a daughter. _Come on, come on! 15 years ago! Who did you know, what did you do?! Did I know someone with clear eyes? Could be a genetic mutation though… Probably not, but maybe… _Sherlock thought to himself, getting more and more frustrated by the minute since he couldn't figure it out.

Both Amelia and Sherlock were lying on two separate couches in similar ways, staring with bored expressions at the ceiling, although Sherlock's was definitely a bit more angered because of his frustrated thinking. John just sat in his armchair. He had just called for a cab and they said it would be here in thirty minutes.

There was silence for a few minutes. Then Amelia spoke up.

"Once you find your gun, can I have a shot at the wall?" she asked hopefully. Sherlock turned his head towards her with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Sherlock asked curiously. John pointed a look at him as if to say 'Are you actually considering letting her shoot the wall?!'

"Yeah. I snuck out to a shooting range this one Saturday that mum had to go into work. I got this fake ID and they taught me how to shoot. They were a bit suspicious, but I've always looked a bit older than I really am," she answered a bit proudly. Sherlock nodded.

"Sometimes I steal this Detective Inspector's ID that I know so I can use it so people think I'm an officer. It comes in useful sometimes," Sherlock said in a bored voice. "I wonder how he doesn't notice sometimes."

John was just typing away on his blog, occasionally looking out the window to check for the cab and half listening to the two's conversation. The similarities between the two were difficult to deny, John admitted to himself.

They all sat in more or less comfortable silence despite the boredom on both black haired peoples' faces. It remained this way until John looked out the window at the honk of the cab they'd been waiting for.

"C'mon, you two. The cab's here," John said, standing up and pulling his coat on. Amelia stood up and stretched slightly and pulled her mobile unceremoniously out of its charger.

"Half-charged, good enough I suppose," she said with a sigh. She then pulled her coat out from her suitcase after noticing the clouds outside the window.

"Anyhow, I don't see why we have to go do this. It's a waste of time, although I certainly have nothing better to do. I'm obviously your daughter. I inherited nearly no genetics from my mother and besides, who would send you a teenage daughter if I wasn't yours anyway?" Amelia questioned with a slightly annoyed expression as she started down the stairs to the cab ahead of both the men.

"A few people probably would just to annoy me," Sherlock grumbled and followed her down the stairs with John in tow.

"Whatever. Think what you want. I call a window seat," she said as she opened the back door to the cab and slid all the way in and immediately pulled out her mobile. John sat in the front next to the cab driver to avoid being cramped in the back. Sherlock sat opposite of Amelia at the other window and pulled out his phone as well.

"By the way, I heard that I have an uncle. Can I meet him?" she asked curiously without looking up from whatever she was doing clicking away at on her phone.

"No," Sherlock said indifferently without stopping texting whoever. Amelia sighed.

"Fine, I'll just find a way to meet him myself if you're going to be like that. I already know his name, so it won't be difficult. It's Mycroft Holmes, correct?" she said with a smile, not expecting an answer in return. "Now who is he exactly?" she said more to herself than anyone as she typed rapidly at her phone.

"Ah, in the government is he?" she said with a glance over at Sherlock, who said nothing. "Don't you just love the internet?"

She clicked away at her phone, still searching up more information and looked over at Sherlock for a moment.

"How interested do you think he'd be if I said I was his niece if I got in contact with him over the phone?" she asked curiously.

"Probably quite a lot, considering how obsessed he is with my life," Sherlock answered with irritation in his voice.

"Don't be dramatic, Sherlock," John said from the front seat.

"I'm not being dramatic! I'll bet you twenty quid that there are surveillance cameras in our flat. If not, then at least around Baker Street. My brother just enjoys irritating me," Sherlock said as he slumped a bit grumpily in his seat.

"I'm still going to meet him," Amelia said after a short pause.

"Do whatever you want," Sherlock said carelessly.

"You can count on it," Amelia said and they drove in silence for the rest of the ride until they arrived at the clinic.

**A/N: **Sherlock has a daughter?! :O How could this have happened? XD Even he can't remember. I may supply a drawing of Amelia in the future so you can have a better idea of her. Or maybe I'll ask someone else to do it. I don't know. Reviews please if you can! They make me happy. ^-^


	2. A Waste of Blood

**A/N: **Welcome to chapter 2! Sometimes I don't know what to write here, but it makes me feel incomplete when this isn't here, so. Enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 2: A Waste of Blood**

Since the three had arrived about ten minutes early, they had to sit in the waiting area. Sherlock diagnosed everyone's illnesses, occupation, and affairs in the room, even after John told him to shut up a few times, saying that for the last time, you can't just say stuff like that. Sherlock ignored him of course, saying that one woman clearly had cancer, that the same woman was also having an affair with the man with the green scarf across the room, who just had a cold and was also clearly a teacher, so he had probably already spread the illness to some of his students. Amelia stayed quiet, looking to her phone every once and a while and giggling slightly at some of the things Sherlock was saying and nodding her head in agreement at others.

A door that was located to the right of the front desk opened and Sarah stepped out, smiling when she spotted John.

"Hi John, we can do that blood test you asked for Sherlock now," she said with a smile. She then looked over to Sherlock. "I didn't know you had a daughter, Sherlock. You just don't look…like someone who'd be a father, I guess. Then again, I suppose you didn't know either considering you're here for a blood test."

"Obviously," Sherlock muttered and stood. Amelia was staring at the wall, but not really seeing it, just thinking. Sherlock walked past her and John tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention since her supposed father wasn't going to get her attention. She didn't respond to John's tap so he had snapped his fingers in front of her face, to which she started slightly and looked over at John as if she had not just been staring off into space. She stood up and followed Sherlock. There was no reason for John to go in as well, so he stayed in his seat.

They only had to follow Sarah down one small hallway and then enter the second to last door on the left. All three entered the slightly small room and Amelia immediately hopped onto the seat, ready to get it over with because for one thing, she was already bored and for another thing, she was ready to tell her father she told him so. Sherlock sat down in another chair on the opposite side of the small room. Sarah walked over to Amelia, preparing the needle.

"Okay, this won't take more than a few seconds," Sarah said and wiped Amelia's arm with an alcohol swab and stuck the needle into her vein, drawing the blood sample as Amelia gently swung her legs back and forth. She stared at the wall with a blank expression, out of sync with the rest of the world.

Sarah placed the drawn blood on the tray that the equipment was on and then walked over to Sherlock with the other needle she had brought. Sherlock had already rolled up his sleeve, revealing his three nicotine patches. He was staring at the ceiling in thought and didn't notice Sarah approaching, nor did he even notice when she drew the blood.

"Okay, I'll be back in about ten minutes, probably," Sarah said and left the room with the blood samples, shutting the door behind her.

Neither supposed father nor daughter said a word to each other, although it appeared that they were hardly acknowledging each other's presence anyway.

"So," Amelia began, breaking the silence with a small smirk on her face. "Ready to be proven wrong? I've heard that you usually aren't."

"Where'd you hear that?" Sherlock asked disinterestedly.

"Well, you have been in the papers lately. Plus, I looked you up," she said matter-of-factly. "I like your website, by the way."

"Really?" he asked, looking at her slightly suspiciously since hardly anyone was interested in his website, just John's blog.

"Yes, actually. I think it might be because I'm pretty sure I think in a similar way to you," she said thoughtfully. Sherlock was about to respond when Sarah opened the door.

"Well, according to the blood test Sherlock, she definitely is your daughter," she said and looked up from the paper she was holding for a reaction or response and found none except for a small smirk and a glance to Sherlock from Amelia, which Sherlock ignored.

"Anyhow, I think John fell asleep in the waiting area, and you can have this-," Sarah was cut off as Sherlock walked past her out the door as he took the paper from her hands, with Amelia close behind, who thanked Sarah on the way out.

Sherlock walked out the door into the waiting area and then out of the clinic, right past a snoozing John. When Amelia came up to him, she picked up the open book in his lap, hit him in the face with it, and dropped it back in his lap again, saying with a grin, "C'mon, Dr. Watson, Daddy's taking us home."

**A/N: **Question: What do you guys think of Amelia? Do you like her, her personality, attitude, etc? Let me know in a review if you can, or maybe just PM me, whichever you prefer. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I thought about making it longer but thought I'd stop it here and start writing a new chapter. Look forward to it! ^-^


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